The Golden Veil
The Golden Veil©
Sara Yvonne Appleton-Adams
Copyright 2014 by Sara Yvonne Appleton-Adams
Silence echoed in the narrow streets of Sousse. The sand dunes lay dormant awaiting the new dawn to warm its soft grains. In a few hours the medina would be jostling with people. Khairun-Nisaa dropped the scroll, as planned, into the compound of the private courtyard before stepping back into her bed chamber, closing the wooden balcony doors on the cold winds of the Saharan desert. Shah, brushed himself against her feet as she stood at the ornate mirror gazing at her slim statuesque reflection, she imagined herself as a bride. Concealed in a veil would be her long auburn hair. Her deep brown eyes accentuated with black kohl. Bejewelled in the finest gems would be her swan like neck. Her fair hands and feet already covered with henna, the intricate patterns concealing the initials of the man she loves. Khairun-Nisaa stroked Shah’s long blue hair as he lazily spread out his paws purring contentedly. She poured another chalice of spiced tea, retrieving Zufar’s scripted message from under the crochet cushions; entranced by the words of her true love. Khairun-Nisaa imagined herself in a passionate embrace with Zufar as she pulled the camel hair throw around her body, before blowing out the lamp. Still cocooned in ecstasy she drifted into a catatonic state.
It was the Fajr adhan and the ensuing stream of footsteps heading to the mosque that woke Khairun-Nisaa. With a gentle tap at the door Noor breezed in, her blue eyes bright with excitement. She walked to the balcony doors, opening them, at once enlightening the bed chamber, a subtle hint of incense drifting in from the streets below.
“Good Morning Shah. Do you think this is any way for our bride to begin her wedding day?” Shah lifted the tip of his tail in response. Still in a dream-like state Khairun-Nisaa sat up. “In a few hours you’ll be Sheikh Kaleel’s wife forever.” Noor picked up the hem of the bridal gown, feeling the gentle embroider silk against her face. “I’ll have your lady in waiting prepare a rose petal and oud bath and I’ll make you some more spiced tea.” The bride to be rubbed her eyes.
“I hope I can live up to their expectations.” Khiarun-Nisaa felt as though she was floating on cotton clouds. She looked at Noor the two had been best friends ever since she could remember, so alike that they were often mistaken for sisters. “You’ll be everything that is expected of you, you’ve certainly had enough guidance over the years. I’ve heard the Sheikh’s a generous man with a good heart. I wish I could be consumed by love, find my soul mate. My family insist on finding me someone reliable.”
“You mean old and rich.” The two women laugh out loud.
“Let’s hope my luck is as good as yours, or I’ll have to elope. The words struck a chord in Khairun-Nisaa and suddenly she knew exactly what she needed to do. She just hoped her courage would not fail.
“But how am I expected to spend the rest of my life with a man I’ve never met?” Noor smiled.
“It’s tradition. Would you honestly go against a tradition that’s been in place for thousands of years? You’re lucky you’ve at least found Zufar. I can only imagine the agonies he must be suffering today. I shudder at the very thought of who my family will find for me.” Khairun-Nisaa fixed her gaze on her friend. “I’ve heard the Sheikh plans to travel. Imagine how many countries you’ll visit, the people you’ll meet.” Not realizing that Khairun-Nisaa had stopped listening. “You’ll be travelling by ship so it will probably be the year eighteen fourteen when I next see you, that’s five whole years. I don’t kn…”
“Noor I need to ask a favour of you.” The flurry of activity below stairs contrasted the calm and silence in Khiarun-Nisaa’s room as both women prepared for a day of mystical unions.
On the highest dunes overlooking the city of Tunisia, Zufar and his tribesmen waited patiently. Both men and horses had prepared from the moment Khairun-Nisaa’s scroll was put in Zufar’s hand by his most trusted aide. They kept cool under the shadows of the palm trees. Zufar picked up a handful of grains contemplating how many battles had been fought on this sacred arid land. The bloodshed that knew no mercy, it recognized neither friend nor foe. He unsheathed his father’s Saracen sword watching the sun gleam on the razor sharp edge. Zufar vowed that this would be the day he would exact his revenge on Sheikh Kaleel. First he would take his bride, Khairun-Nisaa and second the kingdom; a kingdom that was rightfully his inheritance. The position of the sun indicated it was time for Zuhr salaah. Zufar led the men in prayer. Still penitent and at one with his maker, he heard the echoes of his father’s final words as he lay slowly dying from the wounds inflicted by the man he looked upon as a friend. In just a few hours the plan would be put in motion either by cunning or by force. Today the Husainid Dynasty would pay for their betrayal.
The sun reflected in the mirror enshrouding the bride in a veil of gold, led by the hand by her best friend in purdah. The bridal party were greeted by a sea of smiling faces, to undergo the wedding ceremony; her friend shadowing her every move. As the celebrations began Khairun-Nisaa began to think of Zufar, praying for the hasty arrival of his aide with a message for her. Gifts were exchanged in magnitude; congratulations reverberated around the room. Their veiled Shaykah was the pinnacle of respectability and worthy of sitting on the highest mantle of prestige.
Noor had waited eighteen years for this moment. Any guilt she may have felt soon evaporated when the sorrowful mourning of her beautiful young mother’s heart echoed in her mind. How affectionately she cradled her son and daughter in her arms as they were cruelly ousted from the palace that had been their home. They swore that day to take revenge. Noor felt proud of her part in masterminding the meeting of the anointed Khairun-Nisaa and her over-zealous brother Zufar. The adhan for Asr salaah called the men to assemble at the mosque for prayers.
A stream of uncontrollable tears ran down Khairun-Nisaa’s veiled face. She looked at her family wondering when, if ever, she would see them again. It was love not fate that separated them. She looked around the home that kept her safe and happy for seventeen years. In her heart she knew that life would go on without her. Her brother will marry, have children and the place will once again know the sound of laughter.
A hush fell in the room as the Sheikh and his family arrived for the bride. She was led to her carriage, to begin her future, in her home with her new family. She glanced again at the array of familiar faces, now saddened by her imminent departure. The entourage ready to escort the bride. The lamps were lit by the household staff after return from Maghrib salaah. The carriage pulled by six horses raced in the sand. She leaned forward to peer into the desert to see the outline of two mounted horses, leaving a trail of prints in the sand as they disappeared into the deep dunes. Her heart fluttered but she would not allow herself to be overcome, her mind was fixed on the fate that awaited her.
The cool air was a blessing in the crammed carriage. The journey seemed long adding to her anxious state. After the customary greetings she was led to the upstairs chambers. A carpet of pink petals and pearls ornamented the marble floor leading to the carved wooden bed, next to which lay splendour of sweet delicacies. From her robes she retrieved the vial containing a clear potion hurriedly pouring the contents into the spiced tea. She opened the heavy ornate framed doors and stepped out onto the balcony; darkness now dominated the skies. The adhan called out for Eisha- the final prayers of the day. She thought of her best friend’s elopement, knowing this would lead to her being forever ostracized. She too was ready to face whatever the new dawn would bring, turning to look at the room again – she was home. She sat in the centre of the bed, bathing in the magnificence of her surroundings. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the arrival of her husband. His dark eyes consumed her as h
e walked towards her. She could feel her heart pounding, his powerful presence overwhelming her. She closed her eyes as he lifted her veil revealing her unmistakable beauty. His hands felt soft as he lifted her chin, until at last, Noor opened her deep blue eyes and glanced at her sheikh, the son of the murdering usurper. He unclipped her dark hair letting it fall down her naked back. When at last he kissed her it seemed like a wave of doubt had lifted. As Noor returned his affections her thoughts drifted to revenge that was years in the planning. Her reward would be her place in the history of the Husainid Dynasty. As the Shaykah she would be all powerful. Of course she had no intentions of denying her brother a battle to reclaim what he deemed to be his inheritance. But no man would ever again control her destiny, not even her brother.
Khairun-Nisaa and Zufar’s nikah took place in the desert under a starry sky, surrounded by the tribesman and their families. The highly vocal celebrations continued long into the night. Zufar looked at the intertwined initials in the palm of the bride he had stolen from his enemy. Tomorrow the final act of his revenge would be executed. He was ready to play the part of the outraged brother. When he finally takes his rightful place as the undisputed Sheikh of the Aghlabid Dynasty he would reward his sister, Noor, with a marriage to his most trusted aide. The two would then live under his guidance. Zufar looked again at his sleeping bride. In the eyes of the elders she had fallen from her mantle of prestige. Zufar knew Khairun-Nisaa had risked everything for him. The traditions of his Dynasty demand a Shaykah from the highest social standing, respectability and wealth. As Zufar’s thought’s drifted to the forthcoming battle, he took solace in the strength of his father’s sword. He closed his eyes and decided to let fate determine a future for Khairun-Nisaa.
End of part one.